


Hallow Darkness, My Old Friend

by MaesterChill



Series: Drarry Discord Drabbles [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry Discord Writers Corner Drabble Challenge, Invisibility Cloak (Harry Potter), M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Older Draco, Post-Hogwarts, The Deathly Hallows, angel of death - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-16 15:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18097163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaesterChill/pseuds/MaesterChill
Summary: Something feels different tonight, a constant niggling paranoia, as though something big is about to change.Someone fell out of the sky, and it was the last person Draco ever expected to see again.





	Hallow Darkness, My Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Discord Drarry Server's Drabble Challenge, March 2019. Prompt: 'Different'. Word Count Limit: 463 words (based on wordcounter.net).
> 
> Much thanks to [otpshipper98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otpshipper98/) for running this month's challenge, and to secretlycrazyhummingbird for the beta.

It’s dangerous walking alone along this street at night, but you prefer it to the daytime. It’s grimy and menacing, but beautiful. The fact is you still have to be on high alert wherever you go, not just on Knockturn. The cloak helps, of course. You pull it tighter around your shoulders.

You shove your right hand deep in your robes, fingers curling around your wand, and keep up your brisk pace; you're almost home. Something feels different tonight, a constant niggling paranoia, as though something big is about to change. 

You recoil suddenly when something, _someone,_ falls right out of the sky, landing roughly on their back. Cursing, you hurry over, ignoring their violent flinch as you grab their arm. Your cloak slips off as you drag them up from the ground.

“Merlin on a Nimbus! Are you okay?” you ask worriedly, heart pounding with fright.

As they wobble to their feet, you finally get a good look at them, at _him_ , heart beginning to pound for an entirely different reason. You stare in shock. _It can't be_.

“Salazar… r-right… do try and be a bit more careful,” you ramble quickly, releasing his arm and backing up a step.

He's moving his mouth as if to talk. It _is_ him. _Impossible._

In any other situation you'd be fuming that he's not even thanking you. But this is... _different_.

Flustered, you turn on your heel and hurry across the street, pretending not to have seen the way he reached out for you. His haunting and unnaturally green eyes keep tugging at your heart, their hue too vivid to possibly belong to anyone else. Something tells you that you weren’t meant to be able to see him, though the thought itself sounds silly.

 _Impossible_ , you think again. He died eighty-four years ago: the day he defeated Voldemort. Something overly dramatic about being Master of Death and giving away the Hallows. The details are fuzzy now; a blur of pain and loss.

Shaking the spectres from your head, you reach your front door and mutter _Alohomora_ , oblivious to the man you’d helped watching your hasty retreat, taking shaky steps along the cobbles, hand still outstretched.

Then you feel the pull. Silently you turn in the doorway and meet his eyes, sharing a long charged look. Finally, dazedly, you break his gaze and it's then you notice the scar on his forehead.

As his wings extend—shining _too-white_ in the moonlight—you realise he's picked up your cloak. _His_ cloak. The one he gave you.

It’s time.

He extends his hand and you move forward, your heartbeat painful and deafening. He’s smiling now; you remember that smile. Still beautiful.

As your fingers touch there's heat, brightness, pain, and _him_.

You go with him. As old friends. As equals.


End file.
